


Telephone Wire

by agenderleadingplayer



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McKinley has no self-esteem, i wrote this at 1am forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agenderleadingplayer/pseuds/agenderleadingplayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your run-of-the-mill Mcpriceley: Connor has some serious self-esteem issues, Hell dreams, romantic talks by a lake in the fine Ugandan wilderness...</p>
<p>Rated T for language only. </p>
<p>Moderate depictions of violence and some use of anti-gay slurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telephone Wire

**Author's Note:**

> I mean really I'm just incredibly sorry for putting my baby cinnamon roll through this torture...
> 
> Title named after the Fun Home song; particularly the line "There's a moment I'm forgetting/Where you tell me you see me"
> 
> (And if you haven't listened to the song please do it's one of my favorites off the Fun Home soundtrack)

The digital clock was a blinding red that sliced through the darkness of the room:

11:30. 11:31.

Maybe he'd try to fall asleep at midnight, he told himself. But not now. Never now, he couldn't face —

His racing thoughts were interrupted by a small knock on the door. The boy sat up. "Um...come in?"

The old door creaked open; standing in the doorway was, of all people, Elder Price.

"...Hi." Connor shifted his eyes around the room, searching desperately for an appropriate spot to set them. He settled on his blanket. "Um..."

"Oh, no; did I..."

"No, you didn't wake me, it's..." Why was he here? Was it something he'd done? Did he know about the coffee he'd stolen? It was only one cup, he couldn't have...did he know about – oh gosh, he couldn't know; he'd never told anyone, not Chris, not...not that it was particularly _strong_ or _real_ anyway, but he was in the dreams now, tall and thin, his messy brown hair sticking up in all directions, being poked and prodded and beaten and tortured, killed a different way every night; he couldn't —

"McKinley?" The boy was snapped out of his panic.

"Connor," he corrected softly, still focused on his bedspread.

"Oh, um. Connor, sorry. I was wondering...if maybe you'd like to take a walk? With me, I mean; just...around."

McKinley blinked, not quite sure what was happening. Kevin...wanted to take a walk...with him. At 11:30 PM.

Which meant there was the slightest chance he cared about him.

Not that he _did_ or _could_ , of course; no one...he was an abomination, after all, sinful, a wreck; no one could...

But, oh gosh, he wished.

And it was only a walk, after all. Mundane and ordinary...and Connor loved being alone with Kevin, even if it didn't mean anything, even if he didn't deserve it.

The redhead nodded slightly. "Yeah, I'd...yeah."

"Cool! Come on," Price said, beckoning the other boy out the door.

The night was hot – as it so often was – but this night it was particularly humid outside, and the bugs were chirping now that summer was in full swing. Even at the late hour, it must have been close to ninety degrees out.

"Anyplace you want to go?" Kevin asked.

"Um...no, not really. You?"

"There's a...lake, near here. It's pretty. I went there with Arnold and Naba one time; she said there're less...critters...around at night near the water." Connor nodded (or must have) and Kevin started walking a bit faster.

The Ugandan wilderness was beautiful, really, and McKinley looked from side to side as they walked on. He stole a glance at Kevin just as the taller boy pushed some of his mussed-up hair to the side, and felt a slight twinge in his stomach.

Connor remembered one of the first nights after Kevin and Arnold had arrived, the first time he'd really gotten a good look at Kevin: They were playing cards or Scrabble or something like that, and Price was laughing and laughing and...something about him, there, with his _gosh darn_ gorgeous brown eyes, the corners of which crinkled so endearingly when he smiled...

No.

_Click!_

The Ugandan wilderness was beautiful, really.

Kevin turned to Connor. "You okay?"

McKinley nodded, thinking for a second Price actually cared, the realization that he didn't weighing down on him like tar.

The two walked in silence for a few more minutes before they approached the lake. It wasn't particularly large, but it had a nice beach, which Connor followed Kevin over to. They sat, again in silence, for a few minutes.

"Why did you...I mean, why am I...we..." Connor made a vague gesture to the surroundings, then to the space between him and Kevin.

"I wanted to spend time with you," the other boy said simply.

Connor looked down. It wasn't true – it couldn't be. Not someone as incredible as...wanting to spend time with _him_? Connor McKinley, who was beaten and tortured and slowly murdered each night, who deserved every second he spent in Hell? And he knew it was stupid, and he knew it was wrong, but he wanted Kevin to mean it, he really did. He wanted Kevin to hold him and kiss him and tell him everything was going to be okay and then maybe the dreams would go away and...

No.

_Click!_

"Connor? Connor, hey. You're...oh, my god, you're crying...hey..." And all of a sudden Kevin's hand was under his chin and he was using his thumb to wipe the tears away and how could he be so _weak_ ; he was crying in front of Kevin and it must've looked gross and ridiculous and...

"You don't have to do that," Connor whispered.

And all of a sudden Kevin's lips were on his and they were _kissing_ and McKinley was crying and he hated himself because it just felt _so nice_ and maybe finally someone cared about him...

No.

_Click!_

Connor pulled away and stood up, his eyes still filled with tears. "I'm sorry, I...you...can't, I..." And then he was running away leaving Kevin stranded on the beach because he knew it was just a kiss, to Kevin it wasn't a sin, if they'd done it any longer he had no idea what he might've tried to do...

And then he was safe, inside the hut, breathing hard against the door. He rushed past the kitchen to his room. Chris hadn't noticed he was gone. The clock still shone:

12:37. 12:38.

Connor was surprisingly tired. He closed his eyes...

The red was what he noticed first, it always was; the blinding, hot, wet red seeping into his veins like poison.

Then it was the heat: the flames licked his skin, burning him all over...

Then the voices.

Laughing, screaming, all for him; all _because of_ him.

And then he hurt everywhere as a thousand tiny knives were thrust into his back and it felt like his extremities were being ripped off one by one and the laughing and the screaming...

And Kevin.

The tall boy had been sitting by the wall looking terrified and they'd grabbed him, snapped his neck, stabbed him everywhere with axes and were those maces? And he was dying and _screaming_ but there was nothing Connor could do; every time the redhead moved it hurt but he couldn't bear to see Kevin die like this and then there was a voice in Connor's head that sounded a lot like his father, yelling at him, making sure he knew he deserved every moment of this torture, calling him horrible names like sissy and pussy and a word starting with "f" that Connor was all too familiar with and the screaming and the pain and _Kevin_...

Connor woke up in a cold sweat and bolted upright in his bed.

12:58. 12:59.

He needed out of this room...

The light in the kitchen was on, but then again it usually was, so McKinley thought nothing of it. He sat at the counter, his head down, mind still racing, breath coming in uneven shudders.

"...Connor?" Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Kevin. Connor looked up, and, sure enough, the other boy was across from him, a mug in his right hand.

"I'm sorry,"Connor said quietly.

"For what?" Kevin abandoned his coffee and grabbed Connor's left hand with his right. It got harder to breathe and oh, gosh, he was beautiful...

No.

_Click!_

"For running away?"

Kevin ran his thumb across Connor's knuckles. "No, I understand; I put you in a position you didn't want to be in, I'm —"

What? "What? No, no Kevin, I...gosh, how do I say this...I wanted to keep...kissing you, I did, I..." He took a deep breath. "I know it was only a kiss. Which is fine."

Kevin blinked. "Just a...Connor, I..." He seemed to be at a loss for words. He changed the subject. "Why are you still up?"

"Oh, um...you know. I just...um..."

"Did you have a...Hell dream?"

Connor nodded. "I get them every night, remember?"

"You...what? Connor, you never told me that; oh god, oh shit, holy...why didn't you...oh, my god..."

"It's okay. At least I deserve mine. Not like...you."

Kevin's head snapped up at the comment, tightening his grip on Connor's hand. "Con..." He stood up. "Come here," he said softly. McKinley followed, and Price pulled him into a tight, warm embrace, threatening to make Connor have to reconfigure his senses. Kevin's voice was softer now. "Of course you don't deserve them."

"I'm not like you," Connor said, pulling away.

"No, you're not," Kevin agreed. "You're brave as hell for having to go through that shit every night."

They were silent for a while, but Connor knew he needed to say something, something more about the...nightmares. "You're...in them. Now," Connor whispered. "They stab you and torture you and I hate it because I can't do anything about it and you're _dying_ and..." McKinley took a deep, shuddering breath.

"If you'd told me, I would've...I'll still help you," Kevin managed. "There's nothing I...nothing I wouldn't do if it meant you were happy. Nothing, Con."

Nine years.

It had been nine years since he started having the dreams.

He was in fifth grade that first night, sitting next to Steve on his front porch. It was late – at least for two ten-year-olds; it couldn't have been past 9:30 – and they had been watching the cars go by, making up a story for each one.

And Connor was tired.

He only half-meant it, he'd thought as he let his head fall into the crook of Steve's neck.

Nothing happened, which, to Connor, was a good sign.

And maybe it was the night, or the cars, or the way the moonlight was shining down on Steve's face —

Connor kissed him.

It was only a peck on the cheek; couldn't have lasted more than a second. But it was enough for Steve to stand up, startled.

"What the heck, Connor!"

"Oh...um..." Connor stared at his knees.

"You know, my parents have a word for people like you. You're...you're a f—"

Except he'd actually said it.

Connor didn't know what it meant just yet, but he would figure it out soon enough.

"I have to leave," Steve had said, flustered. He snatched up his GameBoy from what was the space between them and ran off down the road to his house.

It was that night he had the first dream. It wasn't all that bad that first time: Halloween-costume devils running around, plastic pitchforks clutched in their hands – but that "f" word was there, echoing in Steve's ten-year-old voice.

Then they got worse – the heat, the weapons, the blood – oh, gosh, the blood, sometimes Connor's, sometimes someone else's, him being murdered and attacked countless times every night, the demons beating him to a pulp and crushing him into nothingness before resurrecting him just so they could do the same thing over and _that word_ , rattling around in his head, driving him insane...

Steve and Connor's parents arranged for he and Steve to go to different middle schools. After that night, they never hung out again.

And Connor missed him dearly, he did.

But he knew he couldn't, so what did he do?

He turned it off.

It's what they told him to do at the conversion camp. His dad insisted that if he cared about his family, the Church, God, anybody, he'd stop feeling this way.

So he tried. He cared about nothing – literally nothing – but the Church and his mom and dad and Heavenly Father, though he knew none of them loved him back. The ritual was always there, natural as a tap routine:

"No.

_Click!_ "

Connor did it so often he sometimes wondered why it was still so hard.

Because now he was in the kitchen with Kevin, gorgeous, beautiful, (no McKinley you can't think that) perfect poster-boy Mormon Kevin and he was _touching_ Connor and might, possibly, finally be someone who _cared_ and the box was there – tiny as always, with Kevin's name engraved on it like it was a gift – and he tried to crush it but the box seemed to be made of steel and to heck with it all he just wanted to freaking die.

"...Con?" Kevin's voice was very quiet.

Shoot...oh, gosh; had he said that last bit out loud?

"You didn't mean that...did you?" Price's voice broke and gosh _darn_ it McKinley you made him cry...

"I'm sorry."

" _You're_ sorry? No, Con...Con, I..." Kevin was silent for a moment. Then:

"Do you have any idea how happy you make me?"

Another pause. Connor let the words sink in; it couldn't be true, he wouldn't let it...

"Why do you think I kissed you earlier?"

Connor ran over the list of reasons he'd compiled in his head, then spoke slowly, afraid he might cry again:

"Well I know...it might not be a sin for you, like...no big deal? And maybe you just needed someone to miss...I know you don't care about me but that's okay, I was happy to be of use, and..."

Kevin stopped him, raised his voice slightly. "Of...of _use_? Connor...Con, I..." And then his hands were on Connor's face again — "Con, I kissed you because I _love you_."

The loudest silence Connor had ever experienced followed.

Kevin's voice was softer now, tears in grave danger of falling. "You...you didn't know that?"

Connor stared at nothing, trying for the life of him to figure out what was going on. It wasn't true, it would never be true; no one _loved_ him, not Heavenly Father, not his parents...and never Kevin. Could never be Kevin.

But those gorgeous brown eyes (no Connor no) and the way he called Connor "Con" and his hands on Connor's face and the tears and...

His thoughts were interrupted by Kevin's lips on his for the second time that night and they were _kissing_ and again it felt wonderful and beautiful and he didn't want it to stop ever.

They'd been kissing for what must have been at least five minutes when Connor pulled away, Kevin wiping Connor's years away with his thumb. Connor took a breath. "Kev..."

And Price pulled him into a hug again as Connor whispered into his chest. "I love you I love you I love you."

Kevin held Connor tighter. "How about we...get some sleep, huh? It's been a long night." He kissed Connor on the forehead, picked up the half-empty mug that was lying abandoned in the counter, placed it in the sink. Connor shuffled back to his room in a daze.

1:46. 1:47.

He slept soundly that night, for the first time in nine years.

And the next morning, he snuck up behind Kevin at the kitchen counter, draping his arms around Kevin's neck.

"Hey," said Price, turning around.

All Connor said was, "I think I'm gonna...keep this switch on for a bit."


End file.
